Avatar: The Adventures of Pan
by PippinStrange
Summary: Long ago, there was peace among the four nations. Everything changed when benders discovered a way to imitate all four elements. Ordinary people with lust for power began to claim the title of Avatar, and they came to be called the Witches. No one knew how it was being done, nor how to stop them. Least of all a young earthbender named Pan, thrown into unexpected dangers.
1. Book I: Air - 1: The Earth Prince

_Dearest Readers,_

_I am writing this story as if it were a TV show, with three books (or seasons) each chapter being a story or an episode, and characters that I hope you will learn to love as much as I do. This takes place after the events of The Legend of Korra and the Last Airbender. Thanks for reading! Please review! _

_-Pippin_

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**Water, Earth, Fire, Air. Long ago, there was peace among the four nations. Everything changed when benders discovered a way to imitate all four elements. Ordinary people with lust for power began to claim the title of Avatar, and they came to be called the Witches. No one knew how it was being done, nor how to stop them. Where was the real avatar? Why did no one step forward? No one knew who the Avatar was… not even himself.**

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Book I: Air – The Earth Prince

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A shaft of moonlight glinted through the dark trees, blue and white dappled against the grass. A figure in a black cloak stood in the center of the clearing, his arms tucked neatly inside his sleeves. The only thing visible was grim smile was on his face.

Two others approached the edge of the tree line, ducking from the shadows and joining the hooded figure.

"Well, Garna," said a squatty fellow, itching his ear and looking on his friends gloomy guise with distaste. "You said you wanted to show us something."

"Yes, go on," said the other, a woman in blue. "It had better be good. I was in the middle of lessening the purse weight of a wealthy traveler camped out nearby."

"Believe me, Shu, Mor, you want to see this," Garna replied, pulling his hood off his face. His voice was throaty, his visage intimidating. "Watch carefully."

He struck a stance, bringing his arms close together and pointing his fingers. From a nearby puddle of a recent rainfall, water rose in a column, spinning lazily in a show of rather elementary water-bending skills.

He paused, and glanced at his companions.

"This is all very amusing," said the short man, Shu, with a yawn, "But waterbending isn't exactly that exciting. You can do it, I can do it, even _she_ can do it, and she's really terrible at it." he rolled his eyes.

"Hey," said the woman, Mor, taking obvious offense.

"Keep watching," Garna interrupted darkly. He returned his attention to the column of water. Suddenly, he took a deep breath, and blew a mighty blast of air toward the column of water. It was vanquished, splashing harmlessly to the ground. And then, with a heave, Garna growled, made fists, and stomped one foot. A pile of dirt cascading out of a hole in the ground, hardened, and fell to the ground like hailstones. Pebble after pebble came raining down, and at the last moment, a sudden burst of fire splashed out of Garna's wrist. In the light, his friends shrieked and shielded their eyes.

When they opened them, Garna was facing them, grinning madly.

"You're… you're the avatar?" whispered Mor, looking frightened.

"But… you're… a criminal, one of us," said Shu, looking disappointed. "I thought the avatar was supposed to be—well—you know, a hero."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Garna stepped forward menacingly, thrusting his hand out. He grasped Shu by the throat, lifting him off his feet as he struggled for breath and cried out. "Garna!" he coughed, "I didn't—I didn't mean it! I mean—Avatar Garna—forgive me! If you are truly the avatar, I beg your forgiveness!"

Garna dropped him mercilessly, and the latter crumpled to the ground, hacking and taking in deep draughts of air.

"You're forgiven," Garna said lightly, looking down at his friend with disgust. "It was an honest mistake, though a change in my nature does not give you an excuse to insult me. Remember that."

"I'll remember!"

"If we can forget about this unfortunate little argument, I would like to let you in on a secret—a great secret that may finally grant us a foothold in this world and end our days of petty thievery. We will no longer just be criminals—we will be lords."

Mor and Shu looked at him in awe.

"What is it?" Mor prompted.

"I can teach you to do what I have just done," Garna whispered conspiringly, "For it is not what you think it is."

"You're… NOT the avatar?" blinked Shu, confused. "But you just bended all four elements!"

"So you think," Garna pulled a strange contraption from his sleeve, a tiny stone shaped like an arrowhead, bound to his wrist by a leather band. He tossed it to Mor, and she caught it, perplexed.

"If you're not the avatar, then what are you?" Mor said, trying to quell her feeling of horror.

"I suppose," Garna smiled evilly, "You can call me a witch."

…

There was a sudden rush of wind—a hurricane of winds, pulsating through a great chasm between a wall of life, and a door into the spirit world. There was a rage of strange colors, blue and red, white and green. He felt like he was falling—but no! He was lifted up, by his own strength, swimming through waters that did not exist and flying like a bird in the heavens. Fire encompassed him but did not burn, and he could feel the dirt of the ground trailing between his fingers like handfuls of sand.

And then he woke up.

His unruly light-brown hair falling nearly over his face, Pan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched with a yawn. Another dream, another stupid dream that he couldn't do anything about. Everyone knows that the avatar is an extinct idea—rumor had it, that Korra slipped into the avatar state in her old age, dying a peaceful death but rendering the reincarnation of the avatar moot. Others say that the avatar is an ancient idea for ancient times—anyone can bend more than one element, if you delve into black and sinister powers known as witchcraft. Others say that there will always—and forever only be—one avatar, and he—or she—is yet to be revealed.

Pan doesn't know what to do about these sorts of things. Those rumors and legends seem so far away, a thing of a past that doesn't exist anymore, back when people used animals for transportation and chi-blockers for weapons.

Palace life in Ba Sing Se was about as far from exciting as one could get.

To rid himself of the remnants of his dream still clinging obtrusively to his consciousness, he went to the bathroom and splashed his face with ice cold water, gasping and shaking it out of his hair like a rambunctious dog. He was beginning to feel better already.

Pan struggled into his prince's uniform, a forest-green tunic over beige pants and knee-high boots. He tried to tie his mop of hair back in a ribbon, but it continuously fell out and hung in front of one eye. He often stuck out his lip and tried to blow it out of the way, but this rarely worked. All in all, he was a little too grungy to look like a prince sometimes, much to the chagrin of his father—the King of the Earth Kingdom, Juro.

He opened the door to his bedroom, an incredibly wide, spacious, luxurious room save the maps and random drawings tacked to the white walls and the mess of dirty clothes on the floor.

"Good morning, Prince Pan," said the guard at the door.

"Good morning, Captain Deshi," Pan replied cheerfully.

"Another nightmare?" asked Captain Deshi.

Pan's bright demeanor faltered for a moment. "No—no. Not at all. Just a fitful morning, I guess."

"You know if you have nightmares I am obligated to tell the king," Captain Deshi said. "He is concerned for your health."

"Concerned for my health," repeated Pan hotly, "Concerned for my safety—concerned for my welfare—concerned for my future—concerned for my people—I find that in all this _concern, _he seems to worry very little about _me!_" he stopped suddenly, biting his lip. "I am sorry, Captain Deshi. It's not fair to snap at you. I know he just wants what is best for me."

"That's right. And that is why Captain Pacha and myself guard you day and night. It is our duty to make sure the prince of the Earth Kingdom is safe."

Pan took a deep breath. "Of… of course."

He began his march down the hall. The guards silently fell into step behind him.

…

Breakfast with the King was no small matter. It was about as formal as a wedding in the great palace throne room. The table was as long as a field for bending games in Republic City, and the room even longer.

Pan sat at one end, his father at the other.

"Tell me," King Juro said suddenly, his silky voice always sounding so threatening in the spacious room that echoed every scrape of their chopsticks and golden plates. "What troubled you in the night, my son?"

Pan shot a look of betrayal at his guards, posted on either side of the door about six feet to his left. They did not meet his eyes.

"Nothing, Father," Pan said respectfully, "But a dream about the wars of long ago. I was studying history last night, and it burned images into my mind."

"What sort of images?"

"Like… what it would be like to be the avatar, fighting all of the fire nation. It must have been so… so…"

"Barbaric," King Juro finished, "It was a barbaric time in this world. A time when a single nation thought it was _great _enough to rule the world, a time when a simple twelve-year-old vegetarian monk thought he was _great _enough to save the world. The lust for power will drive many things—some a desire for war, some for peace. There was no right or wrong in those times, only who had the power to take control."

"Are you saying the avatar was no better than the fire nation?" Pan asked, in surprise.

"That is exactly what I'm saying. What made them so different? Both used violence to gain means."

"But the avatar could have killed many, but chose not to," Pan replied. "That is far better than Lord Ozai…"

The King narrowed his eyes. "It was an ancient idealism that drove them both. Times have changed. It is best not to dwell on it."

"It's _history, _Father."

"You learned all of that when you were being tutored, Pan," King Juro said gravely, "Schooling is over. I'm concerned for your _future, _for you may be King after I am gone." He paused, and said thoughtfully, "That is, if the people do not change policy by then."

"What do you mean?"

"Times have changed, like I said. It is a miracle the monarchy has lasted for this long. The people of the Earth Kingdom may opt to elect their government, rather than hand it over to a person born of the palace."

Pan shot to his feet, upsetting a glass of bright red juice across the marble floor. "Are you telling me my title is in danger?"

"Not immediately in danger, Pan. I must ask you to sit down."

He did not sit down. "There are rumors of a government shift and you haven't TOLD ME?"

"SIT DOWN!" thundered the King, his face changing to one like a mad animal. "HAVE SOME RESPECT, BOY. If your title isn't in danger by the wills and the majorities of our beloved people—whom we must place before ourselves—it would be in danger from ME! If you disappoint me—if you put ONE TOE out of line—I can have you title like _that_," the King snapped his fingers, "And you will be banished from the Kingdom. Didn't your precious history books tell you the story of the disgraced Prince Zuko? What happened to him could happen to you. Don't forget that."

Pan was floored. Everything he had ever suspected—wondered—seemed to come true before his eyes, all in just one brief glimpse of temper. "But, but," he stumbled, "Banishment is the worst punishment—for, for witchcraft, for traitors."

King Juro calmly picked up an orange colored fruit, and bit into it. The interior of the fruit was dark red, like blood. A trickle left the corner of his mouth and dripped down his chin, turning his malicious smile into a scarlet mess.

"Then I suppose you are lucky to not be suspected of witchcraft," he returned to his light, conversational tone. "Otherwise this morning might have ended much differently."

He dabbed away at the red, congealing juice, leaving behind a stain.

"Please excuse me," Pan shoved his chair back abruptly, turning to leave the room.

"Prince Pan," said his father drolly, "Haven't you forgotten something?"

Pan turned with effort, placing one fist in the palm of his prayer-like hand, bowing in the direction of the King. Then he turned on heel and walked dejectedly out.

…

Pan was pacing in small, enclosed yard. There was a gentle fountain flowing into a stream that split the yard in half. A tiny footbridge arched over it, making a shadow where koi fish liked to rest. A flowering cherry tree shaded the corner of the yard, and a funny little graveyard of statues made to look like miniature temples dotted the whole expanse. It was the only quiet place where Pan was allowed to be without guards, since it was covered on three sides by thick white wall. The guards waited inside the palace, by the entrance into yard, and they did not spy on Pan from there. They were respectful enough to take their posts and allow him time on his own.

Tiny little circular windows in the wall allowed for a view in the walls, but Pan preferred the epic view from the branches of the cherry tree. He climbed to the third or fourth branch, rested on his stomach on the wide berth, and looked down at the incredible view.

In older days, Ba Sing Se was a central hub of social classes, everything guarded by the great walls. Everything was… well… rock related. Rocks this, rock that. Walls this, walls that. In times that had changed, the walls still stood, but they were smaller and less intimidating. The real story of Ba Sing Se nowadays was the agriculture—it seemed like all the best earth benders discovered a love of gardening. Now, they exported crops more often than they mined. Things really had changed since the days that Pan read about in his history books. Everything was flora and fauna, and gone were the days when proud earth benders built their walls of tall tanned cliffs.

Not that Pan liked walls—no, he hated them. It was his trap and his home.

That dratted hair had fallen into his eyes again. He pursed his lips and blew, and was startled to suddenly find himself thrown backwards. He hit the trunk of the tree, hard, and slid off with a gasp of pain.

Before he hit the ground and broke an arm or a rib, he managed to let out a shout of surprise. The shout seemed to propel him upwards—and before he could even react—he was standing, as if nothing had happened, unhurt and upright on the ground.

"Prince Pan?" Captain Deshi peered around the open doorway. "Did you call?"

"No—no," Pan said shakily, dusting himself off. "I'm fine."

_I'm fine, I'm fine, _Pan thought, in a panic. _And I did not just airbend._

…

But he had, he knew he had. Pan crept around to the other side of the cherry tree, cramming himself between the trunk and the wall corner around two and a half feet away. He was out of their sight, for now, and knew they were not watching him. They knew he liked to be in the garden when he was upset—and despite their orders to never take their eyes off him—they respected his privacy.

Pan sat heavily on the ground, breathing hard. He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, getting a grip on himself. _I just used airbending to knock myself out of the tree, _he thought, _And then used it to save myself from cracking my own skull. This—this isn't…_

"This is impossible," Pan whispered to himself, looking at his hands. "I'm an earth bender."

To test himself, he flicked his fingers, and a gentle spray of dirt left the ground and rose in the air with the wind. Then he made a fist, and the particles gathered together, making a very impressive dirt clod. He punched forward, the dirt clod exploded on the wall, leaving a brown mark that the gardener would scrub clean the next day.

"See…?" Pan said to no one. "I'm just… and earthbender." He opened up his palm and outstretched his fingers, and suddenly, a tiny ball of blue air seemed to swirl just above his hand. "What the!" Pan hissed, shaking his hand the way someone might after burning themselves on a hot stove. The blue ball of air dissipated.

Pan double checked to make sure none watched him. He opened his fingers, the same as before. But this time, he waved his hand gently, and a cold breeze seemed to cascade over the back of his hand, skirting his knuckles, and flowing out of his finger tips. The cherry tree waved its branches in a rush, and the moment Pan closed his fist, it was silent. There wasn't a whisper of wind to be found.

"If I am an earthbender," Pan whispered hoarsely, "and I am an airbender—then I must—I could be—no. I couldn't be. But who else? All those years—those strange nightmares—always feeling as if they were truly happening to me." He gave himself pause, and felt relief. "Haha!" he laughed quietly. "I'm not the _avatar. I can't be. _Otherwise I would go into the avatar state. I would've gone into it long ago. Unless…" he suddenly wasn't too sure. "It's always been triggered by great danger or duress."

He looked back on his life—under guard, lock and key, never doing anything remotely dangerous or driven by insane emotions… There were always boring meetings, overseeing meetings between long-faced world leaders, studying books in school quietly, learning bending in classes and finally from a master, till he himself was considered and earth-bending master… listening in on great councils that discussed "the dangers of the witches rumored to gather near the abandoned Southern Air temple, one that remained untouched by the four existing air nomads, who seemed to prefer living in Republic City with all the comforts of modern life" and "perhaps a little more tax won't hurt".

All of these things were related by their _normality. _Nothing grand or horrifying had occurred in Pan's life—what would, after all, drive him into the avatar state, if he truly was the avatar?! Nothing, that's what.

"Maybe I've just never had the opportunity," Pan thought, looking down at his guilty hands once more.

…

It was time for practice. Pan and another young earth bender took their stances, in the small rectangular arena, open-aired and simple with a dirt floor and a platform for the King or other nobles to watch the best earthbenders beat each other up.

Cato, his sparring partner, was nineteen, three years older than Pan. He towered over him by several inches and seemed to gain muscle that had eluded Pan for the first of his teen years. His hair was bleached to look blond and his eyes were bright green, making him a favorite among the girls. He never gave them much of a glance, though. It would be hard to like him if he had the flirtatiousness or ego to match his looks, but he did not. In fact, he was more of the _silence in strength _type, a natural leader and agile fighter.

This made it all the harder for Pan to beat him.

_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

Three giant boulders formed and shot towards Pan. With a panicked wave, Pan moved them aside, bringing his own attack in the form of rocks sharpened. They shot towards Cato, who sidestepped them easily.

"Distracted today?" he asked, in a tone that sounded like worry under his jibe. "Perhaps we can…"

"No," Pan said determinedly, planting his feet. The earth shuddered beneath them, building up like a mole's tunnel, till the ground rose just under Cato's feet, nearly knocking him off balance.

"Okay, okay," Cato dismissed his attempt at conversation. He leapt high into the air, twisted, and when his fists hit the ground, shards of rock and dust swirled the air. Pan had to clear a path or choke—and suddenly, he coughed, and every speck of dirt fell to the ground. He hadn't used earth bending at all to cause Cato's attack to fail, but Cato did not realize this. He was too busy preparing a second attack, a rock ledge shot out of the ground, and the wall took Pan out—

knocking him flat onto his back, the slab would have fallen on him and crushed him. He almost used airbending again to react, pursing his lips and readying to blow it with a simple mouthful of air—

but Cato was running towards him, driving his fists forward, the force pushing the slab away from where Pan fell.

"Why didn't you move it?" Cato fell to his knees beside Pan, looking for injuries. "When it hit you, I thought—okay, he's a little off today—but it was going to _fall _on you and you were just lying there. It would have—crushed you, do you realize that?"

Pan coughed in the dust and pushed himself up on one elbow. "I'm not reacting well today."

"You could have died today and it would have been my fault," Cato said stiffly, grasping Pan's shoulder and giving him a shake. "Don't ever scare me like that again. Don't hesitate—don't do that. I can't spar with you if I'm afraid I'm going to kill you—the crowned Prince of Ba Sing Se. Your father would have my head on a stake."

"I think he'd be glad of the excuse," Pan said quietly. He was free to speak his thoughts now—when he was with Cato, his guards took their lunch breaks. Cato was the most accomplished young earth bender in the whole kingdom, and Pan's personal friend. He was safest when he was with him.

"You don't mean that," Cato said, holding out a hand to help Pan up.

Pan got to his feet and brushed himself off. "I do."

"Come on, man, shake it off," Cato said, throwing a brotherly arm around Pan's shoulders. "You're distracted and you're not bending very well—and you don't think I don't know why? I can see exactly why—you must have had a little chat with your dad this morning. We've all had those with our dads. Differences of opinions, different generations… it happens."

"Our relationship is rocky at best," Pan said. Then he slowly smiled. "Rocky? Get it? Because we're earth benders…"

Cato rubbed his knuckles in his air. "You have the dumbest sense of humor."

"But that's why you like me."

"It's why I DON'T like you," Cato said affectionately, throwing Pan away from him and jumping into a stance once again. "Come on, my brother," he said kindly, "Forget about your dad. Forget all that. Just practice. You, and I, we _are _earth. We're pebbles and rocks and dirt and… just be the great earth bender I know you are."

Pan grinned and took his stance. "Maybe one day I'll be better than you."

"I sincerely doubt that."

…

After a long afternoon of practice, a red sun began to set in the distant horizon. The streaks of magenta and orange were arrayed in streaks across the whole sky, and the more Pan stared at it, the more he wondered about the whole airbending incident. He accidently (or at least seemed to) use it in front of Cato, and he hadn't really noticed that the earth was flying by the wind and not by Pan's bending directly. He wondered if he could show him, and ask him about it. After all, Cato was his best friend.

"Pretty, huh?" Cato mused out loud, sipping a drink from the hollowed shell of a plumapple. "You know the pollution is pretty bad in Republic City. They say that the sunsets are growing more vibrant because of it."

"That's weird," Pan replied with ease, sipping his own drink. "How does pollutions make the sunsets better?"

Cato shrugged. "Sometimes beauty can be found in bad things."

"You're very eloquent."

Cato rolled his eyes. "I'm just older and smarter."

"So I can ask you stuff, right?" Pan hesitated, putting his drink down on the patio floor behind them. The plaza steps were made of marble and seemed to end in a sheer drop off, and all the city below was for their viewing. "Like… anything?"

Cato followed suit and put his drink down, gazing at Pan with piercing eyes. "You have something important to say, don't you? Go on, out with it."

"I just… I need advice," Pan sighed.

"Ah," Cato said knowingly, "Girls, is it? Girls are complex and marvelous… if you want to know how to talk to one, a direct and honest approach is the best method…"

"I'm not talking about getting a girlfriend, this is far more dangerous," Pan cried indignantly, glancing around and lowering his voice to a fierce whisper. "I'm so scared—Cato—I am so scared to say this out loud. You don't understand. My stomach is churning right now."

"Must be the plumapple juice!" Cato erupted loudly and cheerfully, for just at that moment, a few nobles were walking out of the palace doors. They walked down the steps, bowed politely to Pan, and continued on their way. When they were out of earshot, Cato grasped Pan's arm with an iron grip.

"Don't be afraid," he said, "You can tell me anything."

"It's just… I'm a…" Pan turned and looked at the sun, trying to gather some sort of strength from it. "I'm a… I think I'm the avatar."

There was something strange about Cato's reaction. He didn't seem surprised, and yet, he was shocked. He looked elated, and yet angry. He sat back quickly, letting go of Pan's arm as if it was made of snakes. "Oh," he said simply, following Pan's gaze to the sunlight swiftly disappearing. Then he looked back, a grin spreading over his face. "Pan," he said, with a relieved smile, "You can't be the avatar. You only bend one element. Did you have one of those funny dreams again?"

"Yeah, but that is besides the point," Pan regretted telling Cato about his weird nightmares several years ago. "The dreams—they've _meant _something this whole time. I thought it was just because of reading… and thinking… but they do mean something. Really and truly."

"You're scaring me a little," Cato admitted.

"It's the truth," Pan whispered, "I really think this is real, Cato. I think I'm the avatar."

"But you aren't," Cato said vehemently, "One element, Pan. One. Earth. What is the avatar? The master of all four. All points to you being quite mislead. What—seriously—gave you the idea that you could bend more than one element?"

"This did," Pan took a deep breath, and repeated the hand movement he had discovered that morning. He flexed his fingers, a tiny blue ball of air appeared, zipping around in a spastic circle. He used his other hand, and several more appeared, spinning like tiny planets in orbit. Then he blew them away, and they disappeared.

"What—what was—how," stuttered Cato, but again, there was something off about his voice. As if he was a bad actor reading the lines of an unfamiliar play. As if he were protesting something he already knew to be true.

"And this!" Pan snapped, taking a deep breath, as if trying to blow his hair out of his eyes. He exhaled quickly, and it shot him backwards, sliding across the marble floor till he smacked the palace wall with a thump. Cato had jumped to his feet.

Pan struggled off the floor. "See?"

Cato was silent, staring at him, in a mixture of pride and revulsion. "Is it a trick?" he asked, in a darkened tone.

"No, it isn't," Pan protested, pushing off the wall and standing. He held out his hands, pointing one finger, and concentrated. He imagined the way the cherry tree had shaken its boughs in the wind he had created. That sound was happening again, only more direct. Pan opened his eyes, and noticed the breeze the flowed coldly past him knocked their shells of juice off the ledge, and they fell silently to the fathoms below.

Cato watched them fall, too. His hair was wafting around his face. He shivered a little, and his posture was one of quiet belief at what he was seeing. Then his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze hardened, and he suddenly looked at Pan with something like hatred. He marched towards him, grabbing Pan's wrist and shaking it roughly. "Stop it!" he growled. "Stop what you're doing—now! That's enough!"

Pan jerked his arm out of his grasp. "All right, all right, I've stopped," he said in a small voice, hurt by Cato's reaction. "I know this must be weird right now…"

"It's more than weird," Cato was livid. "It's _disgusting._"

"Disgusting?" Pan asked confusedly. "What do you mean—disgusting?"

"It's one thing to fake it, Pan, but it's another to play that sort of thing on me—me! Your best friend! I am shocked, I'm—I'm horrified."

"Fake what? That was real. I'm not trying to play a joke or anything."

"It's not funny," Cato reiterated.

"I know it isn't," Pan agreed wholeheartedly. "I'm serious…"

"Stop—stop it!" Cato repeated, angrier than before. "Can't you stop? You've got to, Pan—you can't force me to do this. I don't want to, but I will."

"Force you? What are you TALKING about?" Pan exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, at a loss. He accidently thrust a _whoosh _of air into the overhang of the plaza roof, causing a few tiles to suddenly fall and crack with a ceramic clatter on the flagstones.

They both stared at the broken terracotta, one fearful, the other unreadable.

Cato grabbed Pan by the back of his shirt, half-dragging him back down the steps and across the courtyard. He was heading towards the gate that led to the front entrance of the palace.

"What are you doing?" Pan gasped.

"Getting you out of here," Cato said in a low voice. He threw Pan roughly towards the gate, and opened it with his earthbending. Before them was spread the front grounds of the palace, and beyond, the entrance to the city of Ba Sing Se itself, which Pan rarely visited.

"What?" Pan repeated.

"You are going to walk through those gates," Cato commanded, without emotion. "You are going to walk through and _leave. _You should probably never come back."

"I'm not allowed to leave," Pan scoffed. "Cato—what is the matter with you? You're acting like a crazy person!"

"You will leave," Cato repeated, "I will make you if I have to. You know I can fight you, and you know I can defeat—or kill—you. So don't try to protest. You've got to go."

"Why?" cried Pan, growing more afraid of Cato's strange personality change in a matter of seconds. "Give me one good reason why I should listen to you. You're nuts."

"I will go to the King," threatened Cato, "I will tell him you've fallen into dark ways. I'll tell him about your witchcraft. It'll be prison for you, Pan. Or death. Forever—for your treachery, going against everything the four nations stand for."

"It's not witchcraft!" Pan declared, enlightened. "It's real, Cato! Don't be mad at me! I'm not trying to fool you, and I'm not doing any of that witch stuff. Those are just rumors and problems in a far off land—what—what REASON would I have to do any of that?"

"I've seen it with my own eyes!" Cato snarled. "You're a witch, you're a fake. I don't ever want to see you here again. If you come back I WILL kill you—or I can take you inside now and let your father do it." Cato's eyes were brimming with tears now—tears he was trying to hide. "Leave the city! Take the back streets!" He pulled his green scarf from around his neck and tied it roughly over Pan's head. "Don't let anyone recognize you."

"I am NOT leaving, this is my home, you can't accuse me of witchcraft if you know me at all," Pan was trying not to cry too. "I _thought _you knew me. We're family."

"We're not family, you're not my brother, not like this," Cato grabbed Pan roughly by the shirt and shoved him through the gate. Then he followed close behind him, making Pan walk quickly in the dying light towards the front gate, across the open ground. The sunlight faded at last, the twilight was gray and ugly.

"The Prince and I are going on an errand for the King," Cato stated to the guards, and without questioning them, the guards opened the front gate.

There was nothing between them now, and oddly enough, Pan looked upon his city and felt that beyond the borders lay freedom—even though he felt trapped at times, he'd never felt like a prisoner so keenly before.

Cato waited until the earth gates shut with a solid _bam _behind them. "Stop protesting," he said callously, "Start walking."

"Do you really think I am going to listen to you? I'll just come back," Pan said pleadingly. "If you don't tell what's wrong, I'll…"

"You'll what? Call your guards?" Cato said mockingly. "They'll sooner take you prisoner than keep you safe. You're a witch. You're a… freak of nature. You disappoint me. From now on, I do not know you. I am no longer your friend. If you return, maybe I won't even turn you into your father—I'll just kill you myself."

Suddenly, he jumped into one of his best fighting positions. Knees bent, bare feet planted firmly in the ground, one hand a fist, the other flat and elbow pulled in. His eyes narrowed. "Don't make me try," he whispered.

"Traitor!" Pan cried out loud. "Traitor to me—the crown—everything. Our friendship," his voice broke. "You're acting like a monster."

"You're the traitor and the monster," Cato pulled his fist back. "I will hurt you if you don't move."

"You won't hurt me!" Pan declared trustingly.

Cato released his fist, stomping twice, leaping high into the air with a twirl. When he landed, a giant rock crashed in front of him. Then he leapt again, kicked, and the rock flew towards Pan. He sidestepped the rock, but almost too late. It knocked him aside and to the ground. When he fell, he scraped his hands and knees on the ground, trying to catch himself. Knees burning and bleeding, hands red and stinging, he jumped to his feet.

Cato was readying another boulder. "This one aims for your skull," he whispered.

"All right, Cato—all right. You win for now." Pan cried openly, backing away, feelings of betrayal oozing from him like the blood in his scratches. "I'm leaving—I'm leaving, okay? I hope you're happy my friend. What are you going to tell my dad? That I ran away? They'll find me, you know. And then it won't matter what you say. I'll just come home, where I'm wanted."

"You'll never be wanted here, trust me on that," Cato relaxed his fighting pose. "Do yourself a favor. Don't drag this out. Just leave."

Pan turned without a last glance and ran into the growing darkness, fleeing into the city where shadows deepened and lanterns were being lit in the porches and streetlamps were switching on automatically. He cried unexpectedly, profusely. He ran and ran, for as far as he could, till he was in a completely unfamiliar alleyway. Night had completely fallen by now, the air as black as pitch.

Then he knelt down and wept, sitting against the wall, and hiding his face in his knees.

After a moment, he heard a shuffling sound. He looked up, trying to figure out his surroundings, blinking in the darkness. He had run into an alley way, but the far end was cut off with a fence, and there was straw everywhere. Ah—he had run to a pen, an animal pen, somewhere in the market.

There was a snuffling noise, and all of a sudden there was a long face and soft lips nuzzling Pan in the face. He gasped and looked up, trying to push whatever-it-was out of his way.

It was a flying giraffe—a young one. They looked akin to any normal giraffe, except for the wings that would bud and bloom like flowers from their shoulders when they reached maturity at the age of three. But this wasn't any old giraffe, it was a friendly one, that Pan recognized.

"Tishi!" he acknowledged with a smile despite the circumstances. The giraffe was in the pen at the end of the alley, but her neck was so long and arced that she could reach Pan from where she stood. He hugged her entire head, and she responded with a nuzzle in the neck. He tried to wipe his tears as he stood up, examining her shoulders. "Another year and you'll be able to fly," he said dismally, patting her shoulders. She snorted in reply.

"You know—you belong to the King. You're a part of the royal herd, about to be shipped to the zoo," Pan realized. "You basically belong to me—and—if I am really an airbender, and I think I am—I ought to have a flying creature. You—and I—we're going to have to stick together. It's just you and me. We're team avatar, okay?" he wiped his nose and went to the earthen wall of the alley and found her saddle hanging on a peg. He approached her with an alerting whistle, and she stared right back, her long lashes blinking excitedly over her giant, dark-orbed eyes. As he saddled, he talked to her in halting, sad tones. "Korra left her home to seek training because she wanted to," he mused, "And Aang ran away because he was frightened of what being the avatar meant. I am running away, but I'm… I think I'm being forced to. That doesn't make sense does it?"

Tishi snorted and flicked her ears.

"I know," Pan said, slipped her bridle around her nose and over her tiny horns and tufts of mane. "Why would he threaten to kill me? I thought he was my friend." He put his foot in the stirrup and threw his leg over. The steepness of a giraffes back made them difficult to ride, but once one was in the saddle, a second belt went around Pan's lower back for support and clipped to the saddle horn in front of him. "I don't know why I'm listening to that bully," he said angrily. "But I don't know why he'd try to kill me for it, either. He knows me better than that—I'm not a witch! I'm NOT!"

With the last word, he bumped his heels lightly into Tishi's flanks. She stepped lightly over the fence (who built a fence so short for a giraffe anyway?) and began her heavy gait out of the alley. When they reached the street, she began her walloping gallop, and did not answer Pan the way he wished she could.

Pan, an earthbender—or the avatar—fled the city that night, riding the back of a flying giraffe. The darkness surrounded them, and the thinnest crescent of the moon did nothing to light their way. Pan did not know where to go, only that he was leaving. Maybe forever.

And that night, Cato looked at the moon with tears in his eyes.

The moon looked back on him, with pity in her heart. She watched as Cato went before the King in his green throne room, and listened as he spoke. When the King stode forward and backhanded Cato across the face, she wished she could help. Guards came and took Cato away, who spat blood from his mouth in the King's direction. Then they took him to a place where even the moon could not see.

* * *

**Coming soon on Avatar**

* * *

"I am seeking an airbender. Can you tell me where I can find one?"

"Well, the only airbenders that exist you know are descendents of Avatar Aang and Katara themselves."

"And… uh… how many are there?"

"Well there's their three kids, Tenzin, Bumi, and… I always forget the other, then Tenzin and his wife popped out a bunch o' young pups… they're airbenders too…"

"Okay, I'll narrow down my question," Pan said with frustration. "Can I find _one _airbender who is…a… teacher?"

"Well, yeah, that'd be Chiharu, daughter of Rohan, youngest son of Tenzin. She lives in Republic City."

"And how do I get to Republic City from here?"

"You don't get out much, do ya?"

"It's a lot bigger in the world than it looks on the map, and there aren't color coded highways and giant stars with names hanging over the cities," snapped Pan. "Just give me the first step."

"Well," said the man thoughtfully, "You'll want to start by picking your foot up and putting it in front of you, but that might just be me."

Pan smacked his palm to his forehead. At this rate he'd die and be reincarnated before getting half a mile.

* * *

**Please review! Thanks!**


	2. Book I: Air - 2: The Runaway

**Water, Earth, Fire, Air. Long ago, there was peace among the four nations. Everything changed when benders discovered a way to imitate all four elements. Ordinary people with lust for power began to claim the title of Avatar, and they came to be called the Witches. No one knew how it was being done, nor how to stop them. Where was the real avatar? Why did no one step forward? No one knew who the Avatar was… not even himself. **

* * *

**Avatar: The Adventures of Pan **

* * *

**Previously on Avatar…**

"If you're not the avatar, then what are you?"

"I suppose, you can call me a witch."

…

"I am sorry, Captain Deshi. It's not fair to snap at you. I know he just wants what is best for me."

"That's right. And that is why Captain Pacha and myself guard you day and night. It is our duty to make sure the prince of the Earth Kingdom is safe."

…

"If you disappoint me—if you put ONE TOE out of line—I can have you title like _that_, and you will be banished from the Kingdom. Didn't your precious history books tell you the story of the disgraced Prince Zuko? What happened to him could happen to you. Don't forget that."

"But… banishment is the worst punishment—for, for witchcraft, for traitors."

"Then I suppose you are lucky to not be suspected of witchcraft."

…

"If I am an earthbender, and I am an airbender—then I must—I could be—no. I couldn't be."

…

"You're a witch, you're a fake. I don't ever want to see you here again. If you come back I WILL kill you—or I can take you inside now and let your father do it… We're not family, you're not my brother, not like this. From now on, I do not know you. I am no longer your friend. If you return, maybe I won't even turn you into your father—I'll just kill you myself."

…

* * *

**Book I: Air**

**Chapter 2 – Runaway**

* * *

Pan had never left Ba Sing Se before. When he left the city, he was under the assumption that the worst was over—under the cover of nightfall, none would stop and ask what the Prince was doing out, wandering alone with no guards.

But the more he thought about it, the more he hoped someone would stop him. He hoped someone would send him back to the palace, and he would return to find a sorry Cato. But somehow he knew that Cato wasn't in an apologetic mood, for it would have taken a great mental twist for Cato to betray him like that.

"Cato must be confused somehow," Pan wondered out loud, forgivingly. "I'll just go away for a few days—a week at the most—and then he'll send me a messenger aerohawk, and beg for me to come back before my father freaks out. Even if he's still mad, he wouldn't let my father punish him on my account. He'd ask me to come back before anything drastic happens."

Under the bright morning sun, it was hard to be weepy and frightened. Pan's impulsive, cheerful nature fought to take over from the helplessness he felt under the moon's watchful stare. He had left the city sometime after midnight, only to remember he still had several miles of farmland till he reached _the_ wall, the outer wall. So he wasn't out of his homeland yet…

"Why didn't I just call the guards?" Pan scolded himself. "Cato could have… I dunno… just spent the night in a cell and cooled off and talked to me in the morning."

They were walking down a stone road through the farmlands now, one of the many that bridged the two walls between various fields of crops and tenants who worked the land.

Tishi made a low growl in her long, long throat.

"I guess if I had called the guards in to take care of Cato, I would have had to explain the whole accidental airbending thing. What if—what if they had the same reaction as Cato?" Pan shuddered. "What if the _entire _royal guard accused me of being a witch? I wouldn't have stood a chance!"

Tishi made a sound of agreement, smacking her lips and flicking her ears back and forth.

"It's a nice thought," Pan mumbled, "But I think you overestimate my father. If all the guards agreed with Cato, he'd probably agree with them. I don't get the feeling he'd… ya know… ever stand up for me. In fact, he made it pretty clear that even a suspicion would lead to banishment…" Pan brightened up. "So, even though Cato was a pretty big jerk about it, this might have happened anyway. And if—IF—I'm the avatar, then the world is my oyster. I would've left on my own anyhow. I don't even _like_ being stuck here."

Tishi lowered her head and grabbed a mouthful of grass from the side of the road. An old farmer who was bent over a particularly stubborn weed suddenly gasped and felt the top of his very shiny, bald head. He gave a squeal of horror, and Tishi spit out his toupee.

…

It would have been a very quick train ride to the wall, but flying giraffes cannot afford the luxury. Pan could have commanded the use of it anyway, but most of the normal citizens didn't even know what he looked like. They probably would have laughed at him, and then asked him for money.

This would probably be a problem, since Pan left in such a hurry… he had no money with him. Not a cent. Not even a change of clothes.

Tishi gave a snort of disapproval. Pan realized he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that they had come to a very crowded area, and Tishi was not in the mood to step over the heads of people who might jump with fear and end up socking her in the belly.

They had come to the outer wall, and at the edge of the farmlands there was a gate station. There were guards everywhere, and a line of people waiting to exit. Many of them were in automobiles, many in the small gliders propelled by earthbending, and only one or two others using pack or service animals. Tishi stood out like the great air temples on the mountain ranges.

One of the guards walked over, eyeing them with suspicion. "Where are you headed, son?"

Pan hadn't really thought about it. "I—uh—_Republic City_!"

It was the first thing that came to mind. He'd heard it was a place where he could find experts on the avatar, a rumor perhaps, but one he'd been told after one of his reoccurring dreams. It was on his list of places to visit one day, anyhow.

"Do you have your papers?" the guard noted his last-minute-destination with a frown.

"Uh, yeah," Pan pulled his small wallet from his breast-pocket, noting again the lack of money with a disheartened sigh. He really hoped that—whatever happened—they would let him go home in peace—or worse, what if they tried to force him to stay?

He'd never felt so torn as he handed his identification papers to the guard.

"Prince Pan!" gasped the guard, bowing. He handed the papers back. "What—what are you doing here—with all these people…"

"My business is my own," Pan said, more stubbornly than he meant. "I mean…" he leaned down and whispered. "It's royal business. I'm sort of traveling in disguise. If you support the Earth King, you would not hinder me. You know he doesn't take kindly to people who hinder his bidding."

"All the same," said the guard, "The gatekeepers should have received confirmation of any—business—that requires such secrecy. If for nothing but to assure your safety."

"You're jeopardizing it _now,_" pointed out Pan.

The guard glanced around, and noted at least twelve people were watching with eager expressions. "Er, yes," he waved him onward. "I expect to receive a report anyhow."

"I'm sure you'll get one soon enough," Pan sighed.

With a solid rush of dusty air, the thick walls were opened. The travelers all shuffled through, and for a moment was blinded by sunlight after being in the wall's shadow for some time. Tishi snorted with delight and broke into a trot, and several people had to dive out of the way of her long legs.

The wall itself was around ten stories tall or more, and about thirty feet thick. Tishi's energetic burst brought her far ahead of the others, and Pan was allowed a view of the earth kingdom beyond. It was nothing but green, sharp hills and plenty of hot, brown rock, lying peaked with gold in the morning.

Pan realized he'd have to make a decision about where to go, and he'd have to do it soon. Would he really go to Republic City? It was a fine idea, and it had some promise. But it seemed a long way to go without food or money.

But if airbending could be a reality, shouldn't he seek an airbender?

The other people who left the city were now on the road beside him. The earth gliders darted ahead, and the automobiles whirred quickly along. Only those on foot seemed to remain close beside Pan, but Tishi would pass them up soon.

There was a older man shuffling along, his yellow and green patchy clothes declaring a lower to middle-class status, probably someone who works in a market. He would probably know a great deal about the world, and he seemed to be traveling for a far away destination, for he wore an extremely large pack.

"Hello," Pan said hesitantly, as they drew up alongside of him.

The old man looked up through bristling white eyebrows and gazed at Tishi with awe. Flying giraffes weren't exactly uncommon, but they were a luxurious animal. Those that were not pets or performers for royalty were flying freely in flocks above the nations, uncatchable by normal folk.

"Well howdy there," drawled the old man. "And where might you and your pet giraffe be off to? Joining a circus?"

"Maybe," Pan said readily, not willing to cross anything off of his possibilities. "Actually I was wondering if you could give me some advice."

"Now what makes you think I can give advice?" asked the man, scratching his ear.

"Uh—uh—I dunno, you look, older, and respectable." Pan stuttered. "You've got more experience than me."

"I dunno 'bout that," the man said, "I've never owned a flying giraffe."

Pan blinked. "I mean… _life _experience. I just wanted to ask a question or two."

"Well, ask away! Who's stoppin' yah?"

"I wanted to ask about Republic City. Ever been there before?"

"Sure! Many times! It's a crown achievement of the idea that the four nations can truly live together in harmony! All kinds of benders live there, ya know. Workin' together."

"Sounds like a good place to start," Pan said quietly. "I think I need a bending master. Or maybe a guru. Someone to help me."

"Well, I'm helpin' ya, ain't I?"

"Yeah, I mean, yes! Of course. Are there… airbenders? Airbenders that are still alive and out there somewhere?"

"Well sure there is—I mean they're all practically extinct. Why do ya ask?"

"I am seeking an airbender. Can you tell me where I can find one?"

"Well, the only airbenders that exist you know are descendents of Avatar Aang and Katara themselves."

"And… uh… how many are there?"

"Well there's their three kids, Tenzin, Bumi, and… I always forget the other… oh, Kya! And then Tenzin and his wife popped out a bunch o' young pups… they're airbenders too…"

"Okay, I'll narrow down my question," Pan said with frustration. "Can I find _one _airbender who is…a… teacher?"

"Well, yeah, that'd be Chiharu, daughter of Rohan, youngest son of Tenzin. Avatar Aang's great-granddaughter. She lives in Republic City. What a coincidence! Weren't we just talking about Republic City?"

"How do I get to Republic City from here?"

"You don't get out much, do ya?"

"It's a lot bigger in the world than it looks on the map, and there aren't color coded highways and giant stars with names hanging over the cities," snapped Pan. "Just give me the first step."

"Well," said the man thoughtfully, "You'll want to start by picking your foot up and putting it in front of you, but that might just be me."

Pan smacked his palm to his forehead. At this rate he'd die and be reincarnated before getting half a mile.

…

They were on a flagstoned road, passing over the brownish plains of the Earth Kingdom. Pan could see distant mountains, but that shielded him from seeing much else. They came to a crossroads, and there was a small station. The building was made of whitewashed stone, the stuccoes on the roof sloping in that typical Earth-Kingdom style. The characters on the sign translated to _The Outpost. _

Pan dismounted, tied Tishi to the porch poles, and opened up the bamboo door.

The place was really a lively one. There was a counter that served food and drinks, and someone auctioning something loudly in the corner from a small platform. The place was terribly crowded but no one seemed too stressed about it. Pan's stomach growled at the sight of the counter, but he made himself turn away, and look to a display near the front door. There were all kinds of maps—maps of the Earth Kingdom, maps of Ba Sing Se, road maps, history maps, natural landmark maps—and finally, a ridiculously detailed map of the entire world. That's what Pan wanted.

But the price… three silver pieces.

"This seems awfully expensive," he muttered sadly.

"Do you need money?" asked a voice. Pan turned and beheld the chubby man who had been shouting from the platform. He was wearing clothes far too small for him, and a funny orange cap.

"Uh, yes?" Pan was wondering if it was a trick question.

"Join me on stage!" said the man. "We'll get ya the dough you need!"

"Sorry—how, exactly?" Pan squinted. "You're not gona try and sell me, are you?"

"Sell you! But of course!" the man exclaimed. "If you've got talents, boy, you can sell 'em. Most of the people here are buying something. Maybe they need someone to move some rocks from their yard, maybe they need a lift, or maybe they just want a bodyguard on the road—either way, you're sellin' something is temporary, and a great way to make… uh…" he glanced at the map. "At _least_ three silver pieces."

"This sounds terribly suspicious," Pan said distrustingly. "Are you a con?"

The man gasped. "You must not be from around here! I am the great Cheechu! I run this business. Helping runaways on their way before even the King was a drooling little baby."

"I _am _from around here," Pan replied.

"Well, you must've lived a sheltered life, boy. Everyone loves and trusts Cheechu! And Cheechu is me! Come on!" the man tugged Pan's arm, and reluctantly, Pan followed him to the platform.

"HERE HERE HERE!" bellowed Cheechu, waving his arms like crazy. "I've got me a strong young earth bender! Strapping lad, suspicious of everything and good for a laugh. He's looking for nothing more than ten silver pieces—ten, I tell you! What a lad!"

"You look familiar," said a voice. In the crowd, a fancy-dressed man stepped forward. Pan recognized him as the Mayor of the Ba Sing Se farmlands—often coming into the palace to update the King on crop exports.

"Sorry," Pan shrugged.

"Come now, no job? No talky!" Cheechu glared at the man. "Fire away and hire away, that's my motto! Young, strong earthbender! He needs ten silver pieces! Who'll give 'em ten silver pieces?"

Someone raised a hand. "I've got a lot of rocks in my garden about half a mile from here. I can give you five silver pieces and a meal."

Another raised a hand, an older woman. "I've got a cat-monkey stuck in a tree, I've got three silver pieces and an offer of hot tea."

A third. "A seasons worth of crops, six months or so, room and board and meals, four silver pieces a day."

"A gold piece every day if you stand guard at my gates! No room and board though!"

"Eighteen bronze pieces a day for babysitting my kids!"

"I'll give you nineteen to just sit on my kids for an afternoon!"

The crowd laughed.

"Two silver pieces to take a delivery back to Ba Sing Se!"

Pan was overwhelmed by the offers, but one voice stood out above many. A dark and raspy tone, of a tall, thin gentleman in very fine robes and sporting a long, white beard. "Ten silver pieces," he said, "For company to Republic City. If your animal outside can carry a small bag of books and camping gear from her saddle, you'll find I am amiable company and you will never worry about food along the way."

"SOLD!" Pan squeaked.

Cheechu glared at him. "That's my line," he grumbled.

"Sorry—but—thanks Cheechu!" Pan slapped the man heartily on the back, and Cheechu's arms whirled like a windmill before he crashed off the platform.

Pan pushed down through the now disappointed crowd, and the man stood tall before him. "Thank-you, sir," he bowed respectfully.

"No, thank-you, Prince," said the man, bowing back. The crowd had returned to bustling about and listening to Cheechu's next auction, but that didn't stop Pan from looking around worriedly. "No one heard," the man assured, "And I keep my secrets." He handed Pan ten silver pieces.

"I thought you'd give these to me when we reached Republic City," he said, looking down at the clinking silver in his palm. "Aren't you afraid I'd steal this and leave you here?"

"I would, if I did not know you were a Prince," the man closed Pan's hand over the money. "Buy yourself the map and breakfast. I will be waiting outside."

Pan suddenly looked at him carefully. "You're not working for Cato or my father, are you?"

"As an earthbender in the Earth Kingdom, technically, I _am _working for your father. But I am merely a subject, looking to move on. I will tell you my story as we travel."

Pan may be naïve, but this explanation sufficed for him. "Okay!" he declared, taking his fist full of money. He darted to the rack of maps, stopped at the counter, bought the map and a green roll of rice and egg to go. On second thought, he purchased a second, for the man. Breakfast was far cheaper than the fancy map, and he had six silver pieces and thirty bronze pieces change. These he tucked carefully in his wallet.

…

The man had already attached his saddlebags to Tishi. They were small bags, one was a square whicker basket full of books, the over was an olive-green pack with a sleeping pallet rolled on top and a few cooking utensils hanging from the drawstrings. This man seemed to know how to travel.

Tishi, being almost nine feet tall and still growing, didn't seem to notice any added weight. But she seemed to like the man, nuzzling him with her funny nose, and that was good enough for Pan.

"Here," Pan said, handing him a green roll.

The man took his breakfast solemnly. "Thank-you, Prince. You are very kind." They sat on the boardwalk porch of the Outpost, and began to eat in silence.

"So," Pan said curiously, when he finished the last of his roll and satisfied the moans of his stomach. "What's your name?"

"My name is Wan Zhi. I am a adjunct professor at Ba Sing Se university. My studies about current culture led me to guess your identity by your clothes. There are many fancy green tunics in Ba Sing Se, but none with gold buttons."

Pan looked down at his clothes in surprise. "I… I didn't even know this was real gold."

"If you are ever in a pinch, and find yourself starving or lost, I'd suggest cutting and selling your buttons," suggested Wan Zhi. "There's fifty in gold on your coat alone. In fact, you never really needed ten silver pieces. This ignorance proved my theory of your identity."

"I am not ignorant," Pan said hotly.

"Perhaps only in regards to the wealth that accompanies you," Wan Zhi replied without batting an eye. "A Prince lives a sheltered life. This is your first time outside the walls?"

"First time outside the palace," Pan admitted, crumpling up the wrapper for his roll.

"May I ask what has brought you so far from safety?"

Pan bit his lip, and shook his head.

"I thought not," Wan Zhi stood and folded his wrapper neatly. He took Pan's and threw them both away in the jar by the Outpost door. "Shall we proceed?"

Pan jumped to his feet. "Yeah. Uh—you're not gona—walk the whole way, are you?"

"Indeed not," Wan Zhi walked around the corner of the building, and returned in a few seconds, leading a very small badger-burro. It had the build of a small black horse, but the white stripes that led from its nose to its tail was a give away. It's small feet sported badger-claws instead of cleft hooves. It barely came up to Wan Zhi's chest.

"She's very fast and plucky," Wan Zhi could see the doubt in Pan's face. "But as we left the city, I soon realized she was too small for both myself and my luggage, which is why I sought out Cheechu. Her name is Zoe, and she will carry me well."

"Hi, Zoe," Pan patted her face tentatively. Tishi leaned down and sniffed her, and then they both snorted and made a terrible baying sound of _HUUURAAAAAAUGH _at one another.

Wan Zhi and Pan burst into laughter.

…

That evening, they had traveled farther than Pan thought possible. The landscape began to change from brown and grassy to rocky and sparse. He kept checking his new map, and finally, Wan Zhi laughed at him.

"We are on the right track," he assured him, "We will head for Serpent's Pass, and it is a pretty straight shot to Republic City from there."

Pan looked at the map. Republic City was located across from the archipelago of the Fire Nation, or most recently, the United Republic of Nations.

"So you've been to Republic City before?" asked Pan.

"Many times, but only on short business trips. I am hoping this will make a more permanent move."

"What's it like?"

"Well, you know that the colonies had remained in fire-lord occupation for so long that their own culture had been replaced, and those lost cities became the first provinces of the United Republic. It gave them a sense of identity—separate from their hostile takeovers—and allowed the peace between nations. Many of the firebenders returned to the fire capitol under Fire Lord Zuko's reign, and earth benders regained their homes and sense of homeland."

"People talk about Republic City as if it is Utopia," Pan said thoughtfully.

"Republic City itself had changed in the past several years," Wan Zhi continued, "The war of the Equalists is still fresh in their memory, and even some damage remain from their attack in Korra's time. Physical damage in buildings had long been repaired, but the culture had changed. Bending-games are no longer the sole entertainment that drove hundreds of thousands to the stands. In fact, several professional sports have begun that ban benders for "unfair advantages". It was still a melting pot city, but the role of Amon had reached farther than anyone thought… he changed the idea of benders forever. They still held respect and fear and worship, but in Republic City, the majority of people are just… normal."

"Except for the airbenders?" prompted Pan.

"What interest have you in airbenders?" Wan Zhi looked at him steadily.

"I just… I mean, I've heard about them. And the new temple. The Avatar's descendents are the only airbenders in the world."

"Yes," Wan Zhi said carefully, "Unless of course, these rumors of Witches mastering other elements are true."

"I think they are true," Pan said quickly, his temper growing the better of him. "My father said that anyone suspected of witchcraft would be banished. If he takes it that seriously, it must be true."

There was a heavy silence. "Have you been banished from the palace, Prince Pan?" Wan Zhi asked, kindness in his voice.

"No!" Pan thundered. "No—I mean—not really. I'm just leaving, that's all. And it's my business."

"You don't have to tell me," Wan Zhi said. "But I do have a right to know—are you being hunted?"

Pan hadn't thought about it, not really. "I don't know what my father's reaction will be."

Wan Zhi sighed. "I thought so."

"What do you mean?"

"I may be in very grave danger, traveling with you. I had my suspicions but they are clearer now. You are not just a runaway—I don't know how—but I know there is more to you than meets the eye. We may very well be pursued by the entire of your father's guards, perhaps a whole company."

"I guess that's possible," Pan admitted. "Probably… just because he's worried about me. You wouldn't be in any trouble," he tried to assure Wan Zhi. "I just, I can't talk about the rest of it."

"Very well."

…

The labyrinth of crystals shone with a soft green light. Cato curled up against one of the pillars in the old, worn down hall, trying to bend the crystals.

They had fed him once that morning, and something in the tea made him lose his bending. Without it, it felt as if someone ripped half his soul out. It was clearly temporary, however. He began to be able to lift tiny pebbles again, but his strength was giving out. They had bound his hands and ankles, and he could only do so much with his forehead and eyes.

It would probably only be a matter of time before they would give him another meal and infused it with whatever made him lose his bending.

It was either eat and live, or starve and bend. An awkward proposition.

The tunnel to the caves opened. Four guards walked through, surrounding the King Juro.

"It's been a full day since my son has disappeared," the King said in a conversational tone, walking up to Cato's forlorn form. "And you've yet to be cooperative."

Cato looked up at the King, saying nothing.

"Perhaps I've been too hasty," King Juro mused. "When you told me he ran away and you let him go, I was willing to throw you down here and let you rot. It seems I just lost my temper, and I apologize."

Cato tried not to look hopeful.

King Juro knelt to meet Cato's avoiding gaze. "I should have sent you after him, and forced you to bring him back. I could have given you a choice. If you will hunt down the Prince and return him safely to his home, I'd be forever grateful. If not…" King Juro made a show of cracking his knuckles. "We can find something else for you."

Cato winced. "Pan is long gone. You'll never find him."

"But you could," King Juro urged. "He trusts you. Why not bring him home to his doting father?"

Cato spat in King Juro's direction. "I'LL NEVER HELP YOU! I've helped you long enough!"

King Juro slowly wiped his cheek, his face the picture of displeasure. "I was afraid you'd say that."

He snapped his fingers, and his four guards stepped towards Cato, raising their arms in an attack stance.

…

When the guards left, Cato could do nothing but lie on the ground, trembling. He couldn't even wipe the blood from his head that threatened to trickle into his eyes and mingle with the salt of his tears.

…

Pan awoke to find a hand covering his mouth. He gasped, but Wan Zhi pressed a finger to his lips. They had camped that night in a dell, shielded on all sides by steep mossy rocks. Wan Zhi even had an extra blanket for Pan to use.

"Come, and look," Wan Zhi whispered. He beckoned Pan to the edge of the miniature valley, and looked over. Pan followed his movement.

Down on the road below to the Serpent's Pass, a troop of the Earth King's soldiers were paused at a crossroads. Many were on motorcycles, and others on horse-ostriches. They were debating about which way to go.

"The King said he suspected the Prince of fleeing to Republic City," said a man in full emerald-colored armor. "But we must cover more ground."

"What if he went to Omashu, or even more south?" asked another guard.

"Second, and third, your companies must make for Omashu. Split up when you reach the city, and send a troop south. My company and I will take the route to Republic City. We must find the Prince at all costs."

Wan Zhi and Pan glanced at each other with worry.

"At all costs?" asked a guard, with a sarcastic grin. "Wanted dead or alive, eh?"

"Preferably alive," said the leader callously. "The King would not be pleased if his son was killed. What then would be the good of his carefully-planned imprisonment? There is a crystal cave awaiting him, and it is our job to put the Prince in it. Arrest him and take him down. Do whatever it takes. But don't kill him. Otherwise the search will begin all over again."

Pan blinked confusedly. His father must know about the airbending.

"This is not good," Wan Zhi whispered. "They do not just want to return you home, they want to capture you and put you in prison."

"I don't understand," Pan lied.

"I think you do," Wan Zhi visibly relaxed, and the troop whistled and moved on down the road, splitting up at the intersection, and disappearing into the night. "Suspicion of witchcraft leads to banishment, but it seems to me you left on your own. Something frightened you into running away. But it isn't enough to bring you home—they want you locked up. And if they kill you, the search begins again—and what would they mean by that? The search for what? Not for your remains, no. The search would not continue. Unless, of course," Wan Zhi looked at Pan steadily. "Unless you were reborn."

Pan gazed back, unmoving.

"Why would the King wish you in prison? Why do you seek airbenders in Republic City, the ones who know the most about Aang and the spirit world?"

Pan still said nothing, crossing his arms over his chest.

Wan Zhi pointed back to Ba Sing Se. "They believe you are the avatar. You think you might be the avatar. Admit it."

With a sigh, Pan returned to his bedroll, slumping down on it. "I don't know," he said honestly. He lifted his hand, and a little soft _puff _of air relit the coals burning dark red in the campfire. A little flame leapt up and sparkled in the night. Then he lifted a wad of dirt, and quickly put the fire out before the troops saw it from the distance. He glanced at Wan Zhi. "You tell me."

"I think it is possible," he replied, sitting across from him and folding his legs as if he was going to meditate. "You don't seem like a witch to me."

Pan smiled gratefully. "You still want to travel with me?"

"I'm paying you good money to help carry my things. There are ten more silver pieces in it for you if we make to Republic City without getting arrested by your father's people." He laid down and peacefully folded his hands across his chest. "I'm a proud teacher at the a university and I've never had one speck on my reputation. Let's try and keep it that way."

* * *

**Coming soon on Avatar**

Pan and Wan Zhi were back to back now, arms raised in defense. The guards were closing in.

"Now might be the time to show them who you are," Wan Zhi suggested pleasantly.

"I don't even know who I am," Pan snapped.

"I don't feel like getting arrested just now," Wan Zhi added heatedly.

"All right!" Pan took a huge breath—and using airbending and earthbending all at once—created a flying dust cloud so thick that all he could hear was the sound of rushing wind and the coughing of the small army. He cleared a single path of air for Wan Zhi and himself to flee through, and left the enemies behind in a fog.

* * *

**Review Replies**

**Jewel in a Crown: **I have my stories organized by day now, so I write a little for each story every day. Even though I've added a new one, I'm still working consistently on the others. =) And I highly recommend watching Avatar. It is one of the greatest TV shows ever made, and I've watched a lot of good tv ;)

**Penspot: **Thanks! Hope you enjoyed! =)


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